They wobbled up to the main deck, and as they emerged into the open, Anton closed his eyes and felt the wind blow over him. He breathed it in deeply, and then let it out, pressing his fingers below his jaw to feel the tap of his pulse. He counted each tap as he breathed, until he felt calm enough to open his eyes again.

“Can you tell me what happened?” the Wanderer asked. “Or can you show me?”

He shook his head. Whether vision or dream, he couldn’t bear to see it again. He would have to tell her.

“I saw Jude being … tortured,” he said. “I don’t know if it’s happening right now, or it’s going to happen or—”

Or if it had already happened, and Anton was too late.

No. It wasn’t possible. He would know if Jude was gone. He would know.

“You said you wanted to stay away from him.” It had been her suggestion at first, but in the end she had left the decision to Anton. And this was what he had chosen—to go to Kerameikos alone. To leave Jude out of it in order to keep him safe.

But if Jude was already in danger, then Anton had chosen this loneliness and this longing for nothing.

He met her gaze. “I need to know that he’s all right.”

“You should save your strength,” she said gently. “I can scry for him.”

“No,” he said quickly. “I mean … I need to do it. I need to be sure.”

She gave him a tight smile and he knew that she understood. It wasn’t about not trusting her. It was about knowing that the only way to quell the shaking in his bones was to feel Jude’s esha, safe, for himself.

He closed his eyes and summoned his Grace, sending it out in ripples the way he’d been aching to do for over two months, searching for that stormlike esha that was as familiar to him as his own.

He felt his Grace brush up against it. Unmistakable. Like a beacon lighting in his mind. He hadn’t let himself do this for months, but it still felt as easy as breathing.

He pressed in toward his sense of Jude’s esha, using his Grace to peer past the endless, intricate patterns of energy that made up the world and resolve it into an image that his mind could process as if he were truly seeing it. Another trick the Wanderer had taught him.

He found himself in a familiar room. It took him a moment to understand why it looked familiar. It was almost identical to his cell in the citadel of Pallas Athos, when he’d been kept prisoner for a night.